To both sides of the staircase were doors leading to other rooms. The blueprints reported that the room to the left was a small downstairs kitchen and the one to the right was designated as a drawing room. Huck recalled that there was an exit from the kitchen to the outside of the house, but there was no exit from the drawing room.
Huck suddenly had a feeling that someone was watching him. When he looked up, he saw Harris standing at the top of the staircase, glaring down at him.
Harris was wearing a white sweatband around her head, but it didn’t prevent beads of perspiration from dripping from her face to the towel she held in her hands. An open white robe surrounded her peach-colored athletic bra and matching leotard. Her tennis shoes were black and white. With one hand, she mopped the side of her face with the towel; the other was firmly planted on her hip as if to say, “You’re on my turf now and whatever you have to say had better be quick.”
With eyes that could pierce through the average person, she said, “This is the last time I will say this: I don’t know a Kaplan from Turkey and I certainly don’t know anyone by the name of Lester Storey. Now you can get out of my house before I call the police.”
Huck held his ground. “You do what you feel like you have to do, but I would not recommend calling the police before we have a short conversation. Let me pique your interest by saying that from your passport picture and that of Storey’s, you and Storey, who is also known as Mr. S., could pass for identical twins. However, the facial data points of the two faces are identical. According to the folks who study those indicators, that is an impossibility, even with identical twins. In short, Ms. Harris, you and Lester Storey are one and the same. Now, you can either talk to me or to the police. It’s your choice.”
For a moment, Harris pondered what Huck had said. “What do you want?”
“First, I would like to close the distance between us so that we don’t have to holler at each other.”
“Come on up, but know that I expect you to be brief.”
Huck walked up the stairs. As he did so, Harris moved toward where the blueprints indicated the main kitchen to be located. Of particular importance to Huck was the fact that the blueprints showed an exit from the kitchen to the veranda where Huck had seen Harris walking and smoking. Later her choice to go in that direction would prove to be her first mistake.
When Huck reached the top of the steps, he saw Harris standing in the main kitchen, lighting a cigarette. She then poured herself a cup of coffee in a large, heavy white mug.
When Huck was inside the kitchen, Harris turned to face him and pointed to a chair at the opposite end of the table. “Sit down and make this brief.”
“My briefness will depend on you, Ms. Harris. You asked what I wanted. I want the truth. The truth that will free an innocent man who is currently sitting in a German jail for a crime he did not commit.”
“That was brief, and because I have no idea what you’re talking about, you can now leave.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, and if you will give yourself a minute to clear out the brain cobwebs possibly caused by your recent workout, I will explain. I passed your personal trainer when I came in.”
Huck could see the anger and impatience building up inside Harris, but he continued. “Your assassination of the German state rep did not go down as you had expected. While you were successful in framing an innocent man, your deviation this time from your past successful plans allowed for too many screwups. Your first big screwup was leaving a loose end in the form of the receptionist you hired, Fräulein Walker. Not only was she able to provide a composite sketch of your appearance but also she confirmed it to be a match to your passport picture. Furthermore, she substantiated Rouse’s claim that you hired him. Your second screwup was trying tie up that loose end by hiring incompetent people to eliminate Walker.”
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Listen carefully to what I am saying. You hired a Frenchman, a.k.a. Number One, and an Irishman, a.k.a. Number Two, to kill Fräulein Walker in a manner that would make her death appear to be an accident.”
“You have a vivid imagination. Who all have you shared this story with?”
By now Huck knew that he was in rich soil from which a lot of information could begin to sprout. He also noticed several cell phones lying on one of the kitchen countertops. His next action was a gamble, but it was one worth taking. He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Let’s see how vivid my imagination is.”
Huck dialed a number. Within a matter of seconds, one of the cell phones on the kitchen counter rang.
Harris did not move. She stood staring at the countertop.
“You might want to take that call because it’s coming from Number One’s phone.”
Harris turned and stared at Huck.
Huck said, “In case you’re wondering, I’m using the phone that I took from Number One, which had in its directory the number of the phone that is now ringing.”
Huck could tell that Harris wanted to say something but that she hadn’t quite figured out what. Huck continued. “See if this sounds familiar.” Using his best French accent, Huck said, “I need help. Number Two fell in front of the train trying to push Walker.”
“You…?” said Harris.
“Yes. I guess you could say that’s part of my vivid imagination and your hypersensitive hearing. Know that by the time I made that call to you, Numbers One and Two were already in German custody. My call resulted in your sending for Number Three, who was in the Middle East, to assist Number One. I truly appreciated that because he was the easiest to apprehend. And like Numbers One and Two, he spilled his guts, making all roads to lead to you. The icing on the cake to this story, which is what I want you to know, is that Germany has issued extradition orders to Turkey for Kaplan. They want to question Kaplan about his payments, which are duly recorded to Mr. S. I don’t think I have to tell you that Kaplan is too weak to keep his mouth closed. Using an expression from the old crime movies from the forties and fifties, he’ll sing like a canary to get the best deal for himself. That deal will include your involvement, and I suspect that you will be identified as the one who, we shall say, called the shots.”
Harris did not like being boxed in by this man who called himself Huxton Price. She needed to know who all knew what he had just said and how much it would take for this matter to go away. In her mind, everyone could be bought if the price was right. However, this man did not convey that impression. Harris thought, I think his only price is me. But I must make an attempt in order to find out who else knows what he is peddling.
“How much will it take for you to leave this island and never look back or to say anything else?”
Huck’s determined and unflinching stare caused her to reel in her emotions. She took another deep draw on her cigarette. “Let’s go out onto the veranda. I do not want any of our future conversations to be overheard by the maid.”
Huck thought, If the maid has heard anything I’ve said, she’s probably on her way out the door.
As Huck approached the doorway leading to the veranda, Harris said, “If money doesn’t turn you on, what does?” Huck made no comment.
Harris stepped to one side of the doorway as if to place her coffee cup on the counter nearest the door. In doing so, Huck passed her and stepped onto the veranda.
Harris’s plan worked beautifully because the next thing Huck knew, he felt a hard object impact the back of his head. He did not remember hitting the floor, but as he opened his eyes, he found that he was facedown on a ceramic tile floor and small gold stars were floating around everywhere he looked. She must have hit me with that coffee mug, thought Huck.
It was a struggle, but when Huck was able to get his knees under him, he pushed the upper part of his body into a push-up position. Then, on his hands and knees, he turned to face Ha
rris.
She had a smile on her face as she leaned back against the wall between the veranda and the kitchen. She had something in her right hand but her robe hid whatever she was holding. She looked down at Huck. “Who else have you shared this best-selling fictional story?”
“If that’s how you respond to a fictional story, I’m glad I didn’t venture to tell you more of the truth.” Huck attempted to buy some time until the stars completely diminished and his right hand was secure on the handle of the throwing knife he had strapped to his right ankle.
“Regardless of whether you tell me, don’t think for one minute that our local law enforcement won’t buy my story of how I had to defend myself against an intruder. And while they’re sorting out the details, I’ll vanish to where I will never be found.”
“That being the case, let me tell you who you’ll be running from. First, US Customs is interested in how an alphabet man can leave our country but never return. They know about Rogers and Quincy. They’re now to the letters O and P; I haven’t yet been told of those aliases. They’re also interested in how you, Ms. Harris, keep returning from other countries but there is no evidence of your departing our country.
“Now that’s just for starters. The FBI, the CIA, and Interpol are all examining a pattern of similar murders over the last ten years or so. All roads lead to your address. In short, you had best be up to speed in your dodgeball moves because one of these agencies is going to tag you very quickly.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. My first mission is to finish with you.”
It was then that Harris revealed what she had behind her in her right hand. It was an expandable police baton, fully extended. She drew it back to deliver its maximum impact to Huck’s fully exposed back.
Before she could follow through with her intent, Huck extracted his throwing knife, raised himself up on his knees, and hurled it at her with the accuracy he was hoping to achieve.
The blade went under her right armpit, through her robe, and stuck fast into the wall behind her. The only way she could move her arm holding the baton was to drop the weapon and extract her right arm from the sleeve of her robe.
This delay allowed sufficient time for Huck to get to his feet. His head was now clear and he was prepared to receive whatever Harris thought she could achieve.
Out of her robe, Harris went into the karate crouch that she had been taught. Pivoting on the ball of her left foot, she attempted a kick to the side of Huck’s head. Her problem was that apparently her coach had not explained that karate’s maximum effectiveness can best be achieved in a more open area. Had she led Huck toward the gym, she may have had an advantage. But this veranda was crowed with tables and chairs.
Huck parried the kick with his left arm, spun to his right on the ball of his right foot, and delivered a backward kick with his left foot into Harris’s chest. The kick was forceful enough to send her backward over a chair and through the kitchen door. But she had just begun to fight.
Harris bounced back to her feet. Dodging the chair in her path, she ran back onto the veranda and delivered multiple right and left kicks in quick succession. One hit its target, sending Huck over the table behind him.
The table provided temporary separation between the two fighters, but that didn’t stop Harris from trying to get to him. It was then that Huck remembered that the traditional karate fighter, in order to do serious damage, needed to be up close and personal. He had no intention of letting that happen. He grabbed a nearby chair and threw it at her legs.
As she tried to untangle herself from the chair, Huck dove over the table and drove a hard right fist to her chin. As she fell backward, she realized that she was not up against a traditional karate fighter who fought by certain prescribed rules. Rather, he was more like a kickboxer. He used everything in his arsenal, regardless of tradition.
Although Huck’s right cross had put her on her butt, she was back on her feet lightening fast. She knew that she had to get in closer and work him toward the veranda wall. If she could get him over the wall, even if he didn’t die from the fall, he would be so broken up that she could finish him on the ground.
Huck was surprised that his right had not put her down for the count. But he knew that in her mind, she was fighting for her very existence. If things got too bad, he could always call for backup. However, he wanted to be the one to put her down for good.
Then it happened.
Inside the van, the noise that was being received via the wire that was taped to Huck’s chest reported that calamity had struck, yet there was no call from Huck. The external directional finder was planted on the east side of the house, but all the action had moved to the west side. Chambers and his men, with the aid of the finder and the blueprints, had been able to track Huck’s movements into the main kitchen area on the second floor. However, now the specific location could not be determined. The information being received through the bug, however, was sufficient to suggest that Huck might need some help.
Chambers could wait no longer. He yelled to his men, “We move now!”
As the three FBI agents rushed toward the house, they saw the maid running down the sidewalk from the front door to the gate. Chambers was determined to be at the front gate when it opened for the maid. There was no time for scaling the fence.
The maid exited without a word, and the agents entered before the gate could close and relock itself.
Back on the veranda, Huck witnessed the agility and speed of an attacking leopard, as well as a raging bull, all in one person—Mary Harris. It was as if she had springs on her feet as she leaped over the table, driving the top of her head into Huck’s chin.
He was momentarily stunned but quickly realized her intent. Her left forearm was across his throat, and she was applying maximum pressure to cut off his air supply. In addition, her right wrist was in his crotch. She was attempting the gain the leverage she needed to throw him over the wall. His back was against the wall, and he could feel it moving downward as his feet began to lose contact with the floor and he moved upward.
Huck quickly extended his arms high above his head and brought them down as hard as he could, planting both elbows into the tops of Harris’s shoulders. The thrust of his action broke her left forearm away, releasing the pressure to his throat and lessening the grip she had on his groin.
When her left arm dropped, it provided the opening that Huck needed to deliver another hard left to Harris’s jaw. The impact spun her to her right, where she completely released the grip that she had between Huck’s legs with her right hand. This was necessary for her to regain her balance.
Knowing that he was up against a worthy opponent, Huck needed to follow up with a crushing blow before she regained her balance.
He snapped his left leg up and drove the heel of his left foot into her left rib cage, putting her facedown on the floor.
This was not the time for Huck to give her the ladylike opportunity to get up from the floor to defend herself. She needed to be put down in a permanent fashion.
He leaped onto her back with his full body weight. Although she was pinned down, she attempted to push herself up with her left hand. She looked in Huck’s direction just in time to register the last movement she would see for a while—Huck’s right fist slamming into the left side of her head at eye level. Her world then went dark.
“Huck! Huck!” The yelling broke through Huck’s foggy head. It was Chambers.
“I think she’s had enough. We can take it from here.”
Huck stood up, leaving Harris unconscious on the floor. “It’s about time.”
“You never said ‘calamity.’ ”
“That’s because I was in calamity. But thanks for showing up when you did. She just about beat me to a frazzle. For a minute there, I thought I was going to be another spot on the ground below.”
Chambers turned to one of his age
nts. “Call the local authorities and tell them I don’t want them arriving with all their fanfare. Things are under control and we just need them to secure the area. Also, they need to bring a medical team. We have at least one in need of medical attention.”
To the other agent, he said, “Call the Los Angeles office and tell them that we need a crime scene and evidence collection team here now and that they’re to notify the CIA and Interpol. I think that will cover all our bases. Make sure they know that we need them here now.”
The agent asked Chambers, “Should the State Department be notified?”
“Not at this time.” Turning to Huck, Chambers said, “The doc might want to take a look at you, but you don’t appear to have any serious injuries. Why don’t you see if you can find something cold in the refrigerator to drink or to put on your chin? It looks twice as large as it should. I’ll see if I have a nice pair of cuffs to put on Ms. Harris.”
Chapter 56
The Reunion
Three Months Later
Price Island is a paradise on the Potomac River. Over the years, Huck had cleared all the undergrowth as well as the vines that had taken over the island. Huck estimated that many of the older trees had been there for hundreds of years.
After Huck and Rose had married, she took on the project of making the island the ideal place for peace and tranquility. With her young friend Kaylan, the two had transitioned the island into one of a giant lush and beautiful garden. The two of them had planted probably every type of colorful flower grown in Northern Virginia. They had established winding walkways bordered by boxwood shrubs that they had acquired from Cedric.
Huck had built wooden benches along the paths where Rose designated she wanted them. On the south end of the island, he had built a covered deck on which he had placed a large picnic table and an outdoor kitchen complete with a butane gas fireplace, grill, and refrigerator.
A Price for Balancing the Scales Page 29